The Relic's Prophecy
by Faiika
Summary: Taken from Margaret's POV. From Pre-movie all the way to Post-movie, this is Duncan's mom's view of everything. What took place at Duncan's birth?
1. Saved by MEGTAF

**Hey, Faiika again! Sorry that I haven't really been focused much on my original Fanfic, 'Pippa's Return', but I've been really busy lately. Anyways, I was just watching the movie 'Firebreather', and I was thinking, "OH MY GOSH this needs a fanfic!" So, I'm making one, because I couldn't help myself. It's based on Margaret's point of view, from before the movie all the way through to post-movie. So, here's chapter 1!**

I was already five months pregnant when MEGTAF found me.

The sun hung high in the sky, and it was hot, far too hot. The heat waves were visible, and the desert provided no shade or shelter. My footprints were dragged and sluggish. A massive headache pulsed in my brain with every step I took. I was running out of time. All the water in my system was long gone, and the effects of dehydration were wearing on me. I worried, not for my sake, but for the baby's. At the moment I couldn't care less how he or she would look; I just wanted it to live.

Then, just when I was ready to drop, I saw the helicopter. I could see the bold white letters on its side: MEGTAF.

My heart swelled with so much joy that I almost collapsed. I sunk to my knees, unable to remain on my feet, and struggled to stay awake. I heard footsteps approach, and someone was at my side. I was vaguely aware of being scooped up and carried to the copter. Someone pressed a water bottle to my parched lips, and I drank greedily. When I was able to focus, I felt a shock when I saw one of my rescuers. "James?" I croaked.

He looked at me with concern. "How do you feel?"

I shook my head to clear my muddled thoughts. The world was spinning…

"You're safe now, Margaret," I heard, and then I blacked out.

* * *

**Flashback**

"Margaret!" called a voice from behind me.

I turned and grinned. "Hey, James."

He beamed. "How was your Christmas?"

"Oh, it felt so good to be home," I confessed. "My mom made all my favorite foods, and even Kara was there. Duncan painted this really cool sunset for me, and Kara made me a scrapbook of our old photos together, along with some poems she wrote."

"I wish I could've been there," James sighed. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it-"

I laughed. "Don't apologize; your mother needed you." I kissed him on the cheek. "You're a great son to her."

"Thanks," he blushed.

"How is she?" I asked softly.

His face fell. "Not good," he admitted. "She's… getting worse."

"Is there anything I can do to help? Anything she needs?"

"A new wheelchair, but you don't need to get it; I was gonna get it myself. It is Christmas, after all."

"Hey." I lifted his chin and looked into his eyes. "It's going to be alright. She'll get better in no time." I stood up on my tiptoes and kissed him. "Okay?"

"Okay," he exhaled.

**End of Flashback**

The recovery room in MEGTAF was calming and luxurious compared to what I'd gotten used to for the last six-and-a-half months. There was a comfortable, clean bed, a nice bathroom, and a maroon couch across the room. It certainly beat caves and rocks. I was attended to by a staff of patient, kind nurses, and I was given many books and tips for my pregnancy.

Obviously, they didn't know who the father was. If they did, they would be avoiding me like the black plague.

A week after my rescue, a man with silvery-white hair, dark brown eyes, and a soldier's semblance came in. "Good morning, Margaret. I am Colonel Richards."

I instantly knew what this was about. I'd been anticipating this for a while. "Skip the formalities, please. I know why you're here. You want to know what happened."

"Smart woman," he chuckled, then settled himself down in the white chair he had brought over to my bedside. "Comfortable," he commented.

I waited.

He cleared his throat. "Well, Margaret, I suppose we'll get right down to business. What happened after Beloc took you hostage?"  
I frowned. "I was never a hostage, Colonel. I went to him, on my own free will."

His silver eyebrows rose. "Why's that?"

"My brother, Duncan, was murdered by a Kaiju. I decided to confront their king, to see if an agreement for peace could be made."

"So, you just walked right up to him, and talked to the king of all Kaiju about peace?" he inquired with astonishment.

"Don't interrupt, please," I chastised. "My sister is an author. She doesn't like to be interrupted in the middle of a story. And neither do I."

"I apologize."

"In answer to your question, yes, and no. I drove up to him, got out of my car, and I faced him, but I never spoke. I knew that Kaiju can sense fear, so I stood my ground. I stared him down. Then, when he saw that I was neither armed nor running, he took me to his lair."

"You know where his lair is?" The Colonel could not contain his excitement as he leaned forward.

"No. Beloc didn't trust me. He kept me from seeing where we were going."

"Ah." The man looked disappointed. Then he straightened in his chair. "At his lair, what happened?"

"We discussed our views on the war. When I told him about Duncan's death, an innocent civilian who wasn't even in one of the cities they targeted… he was outraged. He told me he was in charge of all the attacks, and clearly someone had disobeyed his orders not to kill the innocent. He assured me that he hadn't known, but whoever had committed the crime would pay for his actions." I trailed off in my memories, and only when Richards cleared his throat did I continue. "He questioned me about the event, and I described all that happened, including what the murderer looked like. Beloc was furious; he said that the Kaiju responsible was a Relic."

"Which is…?" Colonel Richards asked.

I shot him an annoyed look. "You work in MEGTAF as a Colonel and you don't even know what a Kaiju Relic is?"

"It's not our business to know their names, Margaret, only their targets. We fight them."

I scowled. "A Relic is the Kaiju version of a magician. Unlike most Kaiju, they can change their size at will, and they act as the king's advisors."

"I see."

"No, you don't," I shot. "All you care about is victory. You're not interested in me; all you want from me is the information, and that's only because you expect me to give you clues for their destruction."

"Margaret, I assure you-"

"Miss Rosenblatt."

"What?"

"Don't call me Margaret. We are supposed to be on professional terms, Colonel. I go by Miss Rosenblatt."

He growled. "Miss Rosenblatt, then. I assure you that were are only here to help. But you must assist us in return."

"Oh? What makes you think I'll-"

"We know that your family is precious to you," he smirked, "and your cooperation ensures their safety."

"As in?"

"We'll kill them," he said bluntly. "Your parents, your sister Kara, maybe we'll even throw your college buddy James Barnes in the bargain. How does that sound?"

"You snake!" I was outraged. "You would kill them for… for information?"

"Yes."

"I despise you…" I breathed hoarsely, too angry to say more.

He smiled slyly, like he knew he had me. "Now, tell me, Margaret. Why were you in the desert?"

Fuming, I glared at him, mentally cursing his existence.

"Your angry looks won't help your family, Margaret."

I grit my teeth. "Why is this so important to you?"

"Because you care about your family, and you want them alive."

I exhaled hotly in disgusted defeat. "Fine. There was an attack on the Kaiju, and Beloc had to support his race in the battle. He took me out in the desert, to keep me out of range of the fighting. But he was ambushed, and suddenly… suddenly I was knocked out."

"How convenient," he grumbled.

"When I came to, I was alone. I kept moving, hoping that I would come across help soon. Two days later, MEGTAF rescued me."

Colonel Richards stared at me expressionlessly. Finally, he said, "That's it?"

"Yes, it is. What, were you expecting me to come across some weapon that might kill Kaiju? Not likely."

He sat thoughtfully for a moment, ignoring my sarcasm. Then, "Six-and-a-half months have passed since you were last seen. You aren't telling me the full truth."

"Says who?"

"You're five months pregnant, Margaret. Clearly something else happened during those six-and-a-half months. Did Beloc have any human prisoners present?"

"No."

"Were you raped?"

"No."

"Did you escape somehow?"

"No! I already told you what happened."

"Alright, then. Who's the father? What did he look like?"

I didn't reply.

"We're trying to help you, Margaret. Why can't you see that?"

"Do not call me Margaret."

He stood. "Even if you won't tell us, we can still find out. All it takes is a DNA scan, and we'll know." He turned to leave.  
I hated this guy. "Beloc," I spat, hoping to get him angry, even if it was the truth.

He froze, then whirled around to face me. "What?"

"Do you want me to spell it out for you? B-E-L-O-C. Beloc. Satisfied?"

His face reddened, and I knew it had worked. "You can't lie to us, Margaret. We'll find out the truth." And he marched out, slamming the door behind him.


	2. The Name

They did scan me, so even Colonel Richards couldn't deny that Beloc was the true father. My days as a happy patient were over. The nurses never smiled at me. They didn't even look me in the eye. They offered me no words of encouragement, and they only spoke with a yes or a no when I asked them questions. If I asked a question that involved a longer answer, they did not respond. They delivered my meals and checked my health, but for the most part they were avoiding me.

I spent the last months of my pregnancy in solitude. I ate at the table by the couch, but other than that I got up only to shower and relieve myself. I stopped wearing the makeup that was in the bathroom, stopped writing in the spiral notebooks MEGTAF had provided, which were probably only there so that they could spy on my entries, no doubt.

Eventually I thought of James. Where was he, I wondered? He worked for MEGTAF, and hadn't he been there to save me? Or had that just been an illusion? No, it had seemed too real for that. I felt my thoughts of him darken, as I came to the conclusion that he had abandoned me.

* * *

One night, I woke up abruptly, feeling strangely stiff and numb. I sat up and groaned; the effort to sit up had been painful and draining. I lay there, unable to move, unable to stop the flow of tears. I felt my water break, and I forced myself to scream, hoping that it would bring in the nurses, even if they were ignoring me.

The scream had taken a lot of energy, but it had worked. A team of doctors and a few nurses rushed in to find me half-conscious, gasping, and sickly pale.

The next few hours were excruciating. Everyone there was doing the best he or she could do to keep me alive. I could barely hear them through my ringing, dazed mind and my weak, agonized moans.

"Push!" demanded a red-headed nurse. "Margaret, push!"

At last, I let out a strangled cry, followed by the sound of a newborn's first wail. Through my exhausted panting I heard them all breathe a sigh of relief.

The red-headed nurse released my hand and pushed the hair from my face. "It's alright, Margaret. It's alright. You have a son."

"It looks… normal," a male doctor observed, sounding stunned.

The nurse glared at him. "Let me see him." She snatched the newborn out of his hands. "No matter what he looks like, he needs to be properly cared for." And she turned to wash him in the small plastic tub that had been brought in.

When all the other doctors and nurses had left, still the red-headed nurse stayed. She wrapped the baby in a clean towel, but before I could see the child, I lost consciousness.

* * *

Over the next few days, the red-headed nurse stayed. She would sleep on the couch, and care for the baby while I recovered. She assisted me in every way possible. One morning, I opened my eyes to see her sitting in the white chair, reading a small paperback novel. Her red curls had been tied back in a bushy ponytail during the birth, but now it was let down. I realized she was very young; eighteen at the least.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

She looked at me with surprise. "What?"

"All the staff members avoided me. Now you're with me constantly. I don't remember seeing you before."

She set down the book at the table I ate at. "No one would allow me in before. I'm new, and they knew I would want to assist you. I wasn't put-off just because you were carrying Beloc's child. But when you were giving birth, they needed all the help they could get, even from a newbie like me." She smiled kindly. "But now that I'm here, they can't lock me out, not since the baby was born. So, I'll be your nurse, since they don't want to be."

"Why do you care?" I asked softly.

The girl dropped her gaze. "I guess… it's really because no one wanted me either. I don't want that to happen to you, or your son."

Before I could reply, a coo came from across the room.

The girl stood and ran to the crib MEGTAF had set up. "Hello, Baby!" she sang. She picked up the infant inside. "Hello, beautiful!" she kissed the baby's cheeks. Then she took him over to me. "Say hello to your son, Margaret." And she placed him gently in my arms.

The child did look normal, just like the doctor had exclaimed, except he had a faintly orange hue. He looked up at me with my mother's caramel eyes. He was adorable, and as tears welled up in my eyes, I knew I was spellbound. "You're right," I swallowed."He is beautiful." I looked up at the girl, feeling beyond grateful. "Thank you, so much, I don't know how I can repay you-"

"Are you crazy?" she laughed. "This boy has given me more hope than I've ever had. The only way you can make it up to me is to love him and take care of him."

I smiled. "You are too kind to me."

"Nah, I'm just trying to help." But she beamed all the same.

"I just realized: you know my name, but I don't know yours."

"Becka. Becka Lane. And you are Margaret…?"

"Rosenblatt."

"Really? My favorite author has that last name."

"Is her name Kara?"

"Yes; how'd you know?"

"That's my sister."

"She's my role model!" Becka squealed. "Here, look." She showed me the book she'd been reading.

It was called Loric Laurel and the Feats, by Kara J. Rosenblatt.

My eyes swam with tears.

"What's wrong?" Becka asked, concerned.

"My sister once told me, at my brother's funeral, that she was going to write a story about a boy named Loric Laurel. His character was based on our brother, Duncan."

"Oh, gosh," Becka whispered. "I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

"You're fine." I sniffed. "That book just bring backs memories."

* * *

Becka Lane became my best friend, despite our age differences. She read to me Loric Laurel and the Feats, and I discovered that Kara had named the damsel in distress Margaret, after me, her sister. Becka was excellent at reading aloud. She made up different voices for the characters, and acted out some of the scenes as she read them to me. She made me laugh, and she made me cry, all at the right moments.

Becka also became my son's best friend as well. He cried when she went to use the bathroom, and he laughed that adorable baby laugh whenever she made funny faces at him. Occasionally, I would catch myself wondering if he was my son or hers.

Not that I minded, of course. I was grateful for her. I appreciated her company, especially after the lonely months prior to his birth. She was funny, kind, and full of life.

But one day, we had another visitor. Two, actually. Colonel Richards… and James Barnes.

"What do you want?" I snapped, my good mood turning sour just by looking at them.

Becka paled at the sight of Colonel Richards. She had told me that he intimidated her.

"Margaret Rosenblatt," addressed the Colonel, "We are here on the matter of your… son."

I narrowed my eyes and held the sleeping child closer to me. "Meaning?"

"That thing could be dangerous, Margaret. Once it's disposed of, you can return to your normal life-"

"Dispose of him?" I cried out. I tried to catch James' eye, but he wouldn't even look at me.

"Margaret, please," Richards growled in impatience. "This is for the good of all."

"By killing an innocent baby?"

"Have you even named it yet, Margaret?" he asked. "Clearly you never intended to keep it."

I opened my mouth, then closed it. He was right, I hadn't even considered…

There was triumph on the Colonel's face.

"Of course she named him!" Becka squeaked.

"Oh?" Richards crossed his arms over his chest. "And what did she name it?"

Becka didn't even blink. "He is Duncan, named after her deceased brother."

I stared at her. James looked at me with shock.

"Does she have a brother named Duncan?" Richards hissed at James.

James nodded, his eyes still on me. "He was murdered when we were in college together."

"You should know that, Colonel," I said with a hint of smugness. "I told you so during your interrogation."

Richards looked murderous. "Come, Barnes."

James didn't move.

"Barnes!"

"I'd like to have a word with Margaret, sir," James spoke.

With a growl, Richards marched out, once again slamming the door behind him.

The noise woke Duncan, and he began to cry.

"Um, I'll take care of Duncan while you two talk," Becka said, biting her lip, and she gently took him from my arms and hurried to the bathroom to give us privacy.

For a moment, the two of us stared at the white floor in silence. Then, James said, "I don't think you should get rid of your son."

"I was never going to, and I never will, so keep your colonel friend off my back," I retorted sharply.

He winced. "He's not my friend."

"Oh? Then what is he? Your owner, keeping you on a leash? Don't you dare use that as an excuse for not seeing me, 'cause I don't buy that for a second."

"What's your problem?"

"What's_ my_ problem? Did you honestly just ask me what _my_ problem is? How about I ask _you_ that? For four years, you were the closest friend I ever had! You told me you loved me! Then, once you found out I was pregnant, you up and leave, without a note or even a goodbye? Screw you!"

"Margaret, please, calm down."

"Calm down? Calm down? How can I be calm? How can I be calm after all that's happened, _Barnes_?"

He flinched when I called him by his last name. "I'm sorry, Margaret-"

"Sorry doesn't cut it, pal. Too little, too late, and I swear, if you don't leave right now, I'll-"

He grabbed me by the shoulders. "Margaret, stop! Listen to me. I'm sorry I left you, okay?"

I was too stunned to reply.

"I mean it. I should never have left you alone, especially when you needed me. I was angry and confused, and I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to go through that alone, and I'm sorry."

I backed away and slumped into the white chair, looking at my trembling hands in my lap.

He went over and kneeled beside me. "I'll volunteer. To watch Duncan. As a second guardian."

I stared at him suspiciously.

"No, no, that's not what I meant! I didn't mean as his father. But, when he goes to school, I'd be his teacher or something. Make sure he doesn't get in too much trouble. Protect him."

A lump formed in my throat, and I sat there, stunned.

When I didn't speak, James stood and walked to the door quietly. But before he could leave, I choked out, "Thank you, James. Thank you."

He looked at me and smiled. Then he was gone.

I found Becka in the bathroom, sitting on the rim of the bathtub, playing with Duncan. Both baby and nurse were laughing. I watched them, feeling content. It would be alright.


End file.
